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My Dad’s Early History

Back row Unknown 2nd Geneva, Edward, 1st Bill, Bessie Swain.

Bill Swain, my dad was born in 1924, fourth of seven children born to Eddie and Mettie Swain. Eddie’s father, Thomas Swain owned a blacksmith and farm and was fairly prosperous. His business was lost during the depression. As he lay on his deathbed, in his delirium, he kept telling his family he had hidden money under his bed. None was ever found. Poverty-stricken like so many others, Eddie made his way as a sharecropper, moving farm to farm, hoping for greater opportunity.

Sadly for the family, Eddie died after four years of suffering with a brain tumor, leaving Mettie with five children under sixteen. Much of the last couple of years, Eddie was either hospitalized at the Confederate Memorial Hospital in Shreveport, Louisiana, or in his mother’s care at her home. His mother was willing to care for Eddie when he needed her, but did nothing for Mettie or the children. The only help Mettie could count on was from her brother. Brother Albert provided her a house and garden place on his farm when she wanted it. Mettie was restless, sometimes moving away. Bill was thirteen when his father died, Edward, sixteen. Both boys had already taken to working away from home, more for something to eat than money. They knew they needed to “get their feet out from under Mama’s table.” If they didn’t havea place to live and work, they’d take a day’s work at a time, for what they were fed the day, or if they were lucky, a bag of meal, a half-bushel of beans, or some corn to bring home. Bill lived most of the time with his Uncle Albert, taking work on other farms as well when he could get it.

Bill snagged his first paying job at fifteen as night-watchman on a drilling rig. He was big for his age, able to pass for eighteen. The site wasn’t too far from home. He get hungry and slip home nights for something to eat. From there, he went on to construction and operating heavy equipment, which he did till he went in the Navy during World War II. He enlisted in the Navy, because he never wanted to be hungry again.

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29 thoughts on “My Dad’s Early History”

Fascinating story, so glad you know about this stuff. My dad, also born in 1924, went to work at 12, losing his father in Depression, capital D and small d. It made them what they became, and we all were to benefit from their experience. Keep writing about him. 💕

Believe me, I do. I am writing her memoirs now. I write the stories I have heard so many times, she corrects, and I rewrite. I only thought I knew her before. She illustrated it. It is being edited now. I wish I knew more of Daddy’s stories. He didn’t discuss his upbringing as much. I know he grew up feeling a lot of shame.

So did my dad, it’s so sad, he would shut us down anytime we asked about his childhood/father. So much shame and sorrow. He told a bit of his story to his second wife. She shared some, but it was still painful.

What a heart-breakingly lovely story. My dad, too, grew up in circumstances that we would consider ‘poverty’: no running water, no indoor plumbing, of course no car. They ate what they grew on the farm, or they didn’t eat. Yet he and his 7 siblings all grew up to ‘amount to something’ , as they used to say. Thank you for sharing your dad’s story

Daddy always wanted a little food left on the tabe at the end of the meal. He thought if all the bowls were totally empty, Mother might not have cooked enough. There needed to be a biscuit or two, and some gravy or beans left, just to make sure.